Fevered Nightmares
by pinkyridz
Summary: Just for fun - totaly unbeta'd but I thought I'd share as I haven't posted for a while.  Daniel is unkowingly sick and his fevered nightmares get out of hand.


FEVERED NIGHTMARES.

Covers on – covers off.

Daniel just couldn't sleep despite is body craving rest. He had come home for P4X- 635 totally exhausted and had expected to be in the land of the nod as soon as his head hit the pillow, infact he'd been dozing off in the MRI machine, Janet had ordered him to stay on the base and not even try to drive himself home, and he hadn't argued.

The mission it's self hadn't been an arduous one, more of a meet and greet, get to know the local aliens, drink and be merry sort of mission. Usually these were the missions that Daniel loved the most, the thrill of meeting a new race, learning about their cultures and cementing new friendships. He should have been in his element but he'd felt out of sorts for most of the three days spent at the palace as King Alfonse special guests. He'd put it down to the fact that this was the second of back to back missions, the first one being based round a 48 hour translation of an artefact unearthed by SG4 on P2X-119.

Translations always took a toll on him and Janet had argued against him going on the second mission but Jack had deemed it important enough to have the senior linguist on hand to make first contact. Surprisingly Jack had been wrong. The inhabitants of P4X-634 were amazingly enough, fluent in English so Daniel had spent most of the time making small talk while Jack and Sam had exchanged military knowledge with the senior General of the province.

Daniel had been bored actually. Hours of polite talk with the wives of the welcome party was not his idea of riveting conversation and he'd longed to return home and sleep. Now he was home though, sleep was proving to be an impossibility.

Finally giving up on any form of rest, Daniel grabbed his glasses and flung his covers back once more. Perhaps he'd tire himself out by going over his mission notes again. General Hammond had told him he didn't expect them until he'd had a good night's sleep but seeing as that was obviously not going to happen, he'd might as well at least get a head start on them.

He reached for his gown but then thought better of it. His room was unusually uncomfortably warm, so he just padded over to his table in his boxers and t-shirt. Taking a seat, he flicked on his lamp, picked up his trusty old note pad and then powered up his computer. As he flicked through his notes, he realised that it was probably going to take a while so before starting he crossed over to his coffee machine and switched it on. He might as well have some sort of substance while he worked.

He sat at his desk again, waited for his screen to come to life, stretched his fingers and then began to type, the familiar sound of coffee machine accompanying him as he worked.

Xxx

Daniel sat back in his chair, rubbed his eyes then routed through his draw for his supply of Tylenol. He pressed two out of the blister pack, popped them in his mouth and then washed them down with his now cold cup of coffee, winching as the bitter beverage burned the back of his throat.

He turned and glanced at his bedside clock and suddenly realised that it was four in the morning. Knowing that he had an early brief, he powered down his computer and made his way back to bed. The boring task of writing up his notes had done the trick – he felt exhausted and ready to sleep.

He sat on the edge of his bed and altered the alarm on his clock, which had been set for seven o'clock to eight o'clock. Because he'd done so much work, he would allow himself an extra hour in bed. After checking the volume of the alarm, he crawled under his covers and pulled them up over his shoulders when he began to shiver. His room that had been uncomfortably hot was now freezing cold and he snuggled down into the warmth of his quilt, closed his eyes and willed the throbbing pain behind his eyes to go away. Perhaps working hadn't been such a good idea after all.

After twenty minutes of tossing and turning he finally began to doze but as he dozed his nightmares started again.

He had battled with nightmares most of his life. Watching your parents die in front of you did that to a person. If you added in the horrors he had been subjected to over the past four years, it was hardly surprising that Daniel Jackson barely went through a night without breaking out in a cold sweat.

Tonight though, the nightmares were particularly vivid. The monsters that haunted his dreams alternated from fire breathing dragons that dangled from the ceiling, breathing fire over his trembling body to rotting corpses that reached into his gut and tugged at his innards.

In his sleep, he accepted the horrors but when he finally manage to force himself awake, he realised that the awful feeling wasn't entirely due to his warped imagination.

After pushing back his covers once more he laid his hand on his forehead. The heat he felt under his touch wasn't from the fiery breath of the dragons. He then reached under his sweat soaked T-shirt and placed his hand on his abdomen. The pain in his guts wasn't from the hands of the rotting corpses.

He was sick.

There was no mistaking it. He'd like to put it down to reaction to the dream but had to concede that he'd actually been feeling under the weather for a few days but his body had obviously waited until he was home to actually surrender to whatever bug was attacking it.

He rolled onto his side, checked the clock again and was surprised to find that it was only five o'clock – he'd slept, sort of for a grand total of half an hour although it felt like much longer.

He lay there for a while, pondering what to do. The sensible thing to do was to go to the infirmary and tell Janet how he was feeling, not that she wouldn't know for herself in a few hours when his blood test came back though. But, not really wanting to wake anyone and figuring that if he could drop off to sleep again, Daniel turned onto his back once more and flung an arm over his eyes.

He managed to stay in that position for all of a minute before he rolled back onto his side again, where he lay for another minute before flopping back onto his back!

Realising he was literally tossing and turning; he inched up in bed and turned the bedside light on. The light that then poured into the room then racked up his near migraine headache and he reached to turn it off again straightaway.

No position gave him any relief from how unwell he was beginning to feel.

Covers on – covers off.

Light on – light off.

Lying on his side – lying on his back.

Anything he tried offered no escape from his growing illness.

He sat forward, pulled his damp t-shirt off, tossed it on the floor and then flopped back against his pillows again.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on slowing his breathing in an attempt to slow his heart rate, which was beating loudly in his ears. He reached up and placed two fingers on his carotid pulse and tried to count the beats but quickly gave up when he found he didn't have the strength to hold up his arm. Letting it flop down onto the bed, he groaned in abject misery. It was ages since he'd been ill, sure he'd been injured several times in the line of duty, operated on for a burst appendix but just being ill was something he wasn't used to. Even the common cold was a rarity to him; he figured that his allergies, funnily enough, gave him some sort of immunity from it.

Normally, Illnesses were of the self inflicted type but even hangovers were a thing of the past since he'd discovered his limit after a drunken barbeque at Jack's cabin where he managed to 'decorate' the rug his friend had only purchased that day.

No, on the whole, he was normally pretty healthy and that was why he felt particularly miserable at the moment.

Figuring that he was beginning to feel ill enough to warrant Janet's help, he inched over to the side of the bed and grabbed his gown. He was about to put it on when the first stomach cramp hit. Grabbing the edge of his bedside table, he doubled over and tried to pant though it but when the first cramp ran into a second, which ran into a third he literally rolled off the bed and crawled over to the bathroom.

He lay on the floor, curled up in a tight ball until the cramps gave way to nausea and then grabbed the edge of the toilet, lifted the lid and then wrapped his arms round the rim and waited.

After dry heaving for what seemed about forever his stomach finally decided to empty it's self of its contents.

Daniel was not prepared for the ferocity of the bout and found that he struggled to catch his breath between the painful vomiting.

Sweat trickled down his goosebump covered back as he heaved. His head pounded with every breath and if he could chose; he would willingly pass out rather than go through this. Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury of that choice so he had no other option but to give into his sickness as best he could.

Finally, his stomach settled enough for him to push away from the toilet and he reached up to flush away the mess he'd made before lying on the floor again, panting in reaction to his violent vomiting.

When the cold tiles seeped into his bones and made him shiver, he dragged himself onto his feet with the help of the sink, drank a small amount of water from the tap and then staggered back into his bedroom where he gingerly crawled back under his covers once more.

His shivering soon gave way to overwhelming heat, he kicked off his covers and turned onto his back.

Feeling so awful that he could cry, he began to toss his head from side to side. The sound of someone in the room groaning soon assailed his ears and if he'd had the strength he'd wake up to see if they were all right but as it was he had no choice but to lie there and burn.

Xxx

"Daniel?"

The cold hand that was laid on his forehead pulled Daniel from his restless sleep. Turning his head, he peered up at the ghostly shape that hovered over his bed.

"N-no, n-no," he stuttered as he tried to pull away from the ghoulish apparition.

"It's okay, Daniel," the creature of his nightmare soothed. "It's only Janet. I'm just checking you over."

Not having the strength to fight the monster, he lay blinking slowly and watched it.

"How is he?"

A strange warped voice came from behind the creature and Daniel strained to see what other monster had joined his nightmare but could only make out a hazy shadow in the doorway.

"He's burning up." The first creature spoke, its voice coming from a far. "Can you fetch me a damp cloth Colonel; we need to lower his temperature before we move him."

Perhaps this wasn't a nightmare after all. Maybe these apparitions were here to help him.

"H-hot," he managed to moan.

"I know, hang on."

Daniel stared at the vision as it inserted something in his ear. His instinct told him to pull away but his clouded mind allowed the action willingly. He soon found he couldn't take his eyes off his saviour.

"T-thank y-you for saving me," he stuttered hoping that the smile he then attempted didn't scare the creature away.

"What does he mean – 'saving me.'?" The other creature was back.

"I think he's hallucinating sir."

"N-no – D-dream."

"Defiantly hallucinating, doc."

Daniel was about to argue again when a blissfully cold cloth was placed on his forehead and he couldn't help but sigh in relief as it replaced the awful heat that enveloped him.

"N-nice..."

"I'm sure it is, Doctor Jackson."

Another cloth was wiped over his chest and abdomen and slowly but surely, his world soon came into focus once more.

"Janet?"

"Hey there. Are you back with us now?"

Doctor Janet Fraiser's features morphed into view and Daniel couldn't help but smile.

"I think I'm sick, Janet," he admitted with a shudder.

"I think you are," Janet agreed and smiled back.

"What time is it?"

"Six o'clock."

"My alarm didn't go off."

"No, but mine did when I got you blood test results back."

"I think I need to spend some time in your infirmary."

"No argument from me on that one."

Xxx

Daniel slowly woke to the familiar sounds of the hustle and bustle of the infirmary. He slowly turned his head. "Hey," he greeted Jack O'Neill who was sat at his bedside flicking through a hockey magazine.

"Hey yourself," Jack smiled and placed the magazine on the bedside cabinet. "How ya feeling?"

"Tired," Daniel admitted. "What happened?"

"Fever – lots of fever. Puking – lots of puke."

Daniel cleared his throat, glanced down at the cannular on the back of his hand, and followed the tubing up the clear bag of fluid hanging on the IV stand. "How long?" He asked, figuring that he must have been ill enough to warrant some sort of medical intervention for a while.

"Five days."

"What?" Daniel watched his friends face for signs of humour but found none. "Really?"

"Yup. You've been as sick as a dog and out of your head with ridiculously high fevers for five days, Danny boy."

"I have?" Daniel frowned.

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Some sort of stomach fluey virusy thingy that Doc has a real long word for," Jack shrugged.

"So, am I going to be alright?"

"You're going to be just fine, Doctor Jackson." Janet appeared at his bedside and picked up his wrist. "We're replacing your fluids and although you gave us quite a few scares on the way, I expect you to make a full recovery with rest."

"I don't remember."

"Be thankful for that." Janet smiled and straightened his covers.

"That bad?"

"Oh, yes.

"Do I need to apologise to anyone?"

"Well." Jack appeared again. "I think you puked all over the General's shoes..."

"I did?"

"And Sam's."

"Really?"

"And don't forget the incident with Major Davis," Janet piped up.

"What incident?"

"Oh, yeah," Jack grinned. "You managed to throw up all over his nice shinny dress suit."

"I did?"

"Yup."

"Why didn't you give me something to stop my vomiting?"

"I did," Janet smiled as she tucked him in. "But it didn't work. It was a nasty bug Daniel."

"Oh."

"I think you need to issue a general apologetic email to all personel, Danny boy. Cover all your bases."

Daniel really wanted to respond to Jack's quip but found he was suddenly helpless to stop his eyes from closing again. "Sorry," he mumbled softly.

"Don't worry about it. What's a gallon of bodily fluids between friends?"

As he surrendered to his exhaustion once more, Daniel was aware of a Jack picking up his magazine once more and off the familiar tap of Janet Fraiser's shoes as she continued her round.

He tumbled back to sleep knowing his friends would chase away his nightmares if they struck again and for that he was grateful.

THE END


End file.
